


that ancient hymn (your bones are humming)

by Aurelie (NowImJustSomebodyThat)



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, WandaVision (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Divergence - Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Canon Temporary Character Death, Canon-Typical Body Horror, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Girl Scouts, Gratuitous Swearing, Jewish Wanda Maximoff, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Canon Compliant, Team as Family, Tony Stark Friendly, Tony Stark Has A Heart, steve rogers friendly, the infinity stones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 04:07:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30032793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NowImJustSomebodyThat/pseuds/Aurelie
Summary: “What was it like, saving the world?” Natasha Romanoff says.The answer comes before the question.
Relationships: Wanda Maximoff/Vision
Comments: 8
Kudos: 47





	that ancient hymn (your bones are humming)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello friends! I thought Wanda *really* deserved a happy ending, and after watching IW after the finale I was super mad that she didn't use the stone. So I wrote it, because fuck making female characters weaker.
> 
> Title comes from the song 'Not Yet/Love Run (Reprise)' by the band The Amazing Devil, which is eight and a bit minutes of pure emotional catharsis. It's what I listened to while writing this, so its very much the mood.

“What was it like, saving the world?” Natasha Romanoff says, taking a long sip of whatever canned concoction Vision thought looked funny at the supermarket last week. Wanda thinks it's meant to taste like some sort of berry, the vague purple colouring of the can suggests it, but it's all sugar and artificial garbage. There’s a faint breeze rustling the hedges that line the fence, the rush of wind scooping up the honeybees that are enjoying themselves in Wanda’s budding flower patch and depositing the bees a few houses over.

“Nothing different to what we used to do before. Wish they liked me more now, though.” Wanda shifts her fingers. The canned drink becomes an ornate mixed berry smoothie, cool in the glass with a whole strawberry on the rim. Nat laughs under her breath as Wanda takes a drink. 

Two girl scouts walk past with a red wagon filled with _Magic Munchies_ , the gold foil box shining in the mid-morning sun. They wave at Wanda, beaming in their uniforms. “Hi, Miss Maximoff!” One of them yells. The other signs ‘Hello!” in American Standard. She waves back, flicking her wrist in the way that gets the sunflowers out the front to turn bright pink for a few seconds, relishing in the excited giggles that follow.

“They seem to like you.” Natasha raises one meticulously maintained eyebrow at the art on the gold foil box. 

Wanda shrugs, watching as the girls continue down the street towards the Westview Pool. “What can I say? I’m good with kids.”

~~~

Wanda looks down at Vision, who looks up at her like she’s spent her life hanging stars and not following monsters into battlefields they created. 

“Wanda. It’s time.”

Anger and fury scatters along her knuckles. She doesn’t want to do this, can’t do this. She’s always been selfish, can’t the universe give into her selfishness just this _once_? “No.”

She hates the way he looks at her, like he understands what this means. “They can't stop him, Wanda, but we can. Look at me. You have the power to destroy the stone.”

She wants to run, to hide, to take the two of them away and keep him safe, but her feet won’t move and she can’t figure out why. “Don't.”

“You must do it. Wanda, please. We. Are. Out of time.” She can hear the fighting, the yelling, the grunting. People are getting hurt, always getting hurt, why is it always her fault when people get hurt?

Her hands begin to raise as her tears fall. “I can't.”

He nods, one of his hands reaching for her. “Yes, you can. You can. If he gets the stone, half the universe dies.”

It’s always about someone else. “It's not fair.”

“It shouldn't be you, but it is. It's all right. You could never hurt me. I just... feel you.” Wanda lifts her hand all the way to shoulder height. She hates that it’s her, that she has to tear his life from him because the universe should live instead. It isn’t fair. _It isn’t fair_. Why can’t they use the stone?

Why can’t _she_ use the stone?

~~~

“Wanda, darling, do you think we should go with sage for the living room or this rather fetching lavender?” Vision stands in their soon-to-be living room, glaring at the mostly finished ceiling like it personally offended him.

“I feel like both of those are daring choices, Viz. What’s wrong with a white?” She looks at him in his ‘painting clothes’ - borrowed band shirt and borrowed tracksuit pants - mind stone thrumming with power, like a second heartbeat that is much easier to monitor. 

“It feels rather ordinary for people like us.” He admits, still glaring at the ceiling.

“If we go white, then we can decorate to our heart’s content. No need to colour match any of the blankets I know we’re going to get.” She stands behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist, feeling the muscles in his back bend and flex as he reaches to hold her clasped hands. 

“Yes, I’ve been made aware of Captain Rogers’-”

“Steve, Viz.”

“ _Steve’s_ need to have no less than four blankets within arms reach.”

“They’re probably not going to match. He gets a lot of them from grandmothers who are older than he is.”

Vision nods. “Considering he is a hundred and two, that is no laughable feat.”

They stand there, holding each other in silence, Wanda’s face buried in his back, Vision tapping out songs on her knuckles. When he finishes his third song, he pulls up her right hand, pressing a kiss to the knuckles. “Careful, those hands have killed gods.” She jokes, trying to hide the fact that she’s gotten used to being scared when her hand goes towards his forehead.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m only a man.” 

~~~

“You trust me, right?”

“Always.”

“I have an idea.”

~~~

She’s so happy she left the suit at the base, because it means it’s crisp and clean and still that Wanda Maximoff Red that’s become her trademark, and it sits on her like a cloak, or a crown, or some other metaphor for power as the United Nations panel stares her down.

“Wanda Maximoff, your actions in Wakanda directly violate no less than twelve laws as listed in the Sokovia Accords. You used your powers for both national and international conflicts when you have been forbidden to do so, as well as caused thousands in property damage to important infrastructure in Scotland. You illegally crossed no less than three different borders and violated the rules of your non-signing, not even taking into account the fact that your initial response to the Accords was decimating an airport, which resulted in an imprisonment that you then proceeded to _break out of_.” A man with frown lines deeper than his pockets snarls at her, and Wanda sits up straighter.

“Are you asking me to justify saving the universe, Ambassador?” She asks, revelling in his splutter and reddening face.

“Of course not, the committee has simply agreed that steps need to be taken! There is no justifiable excuse for your actions! No witness, no argument, nothing could provide us with the amount of proof needed to make this seem at all like this isn’t an illegal action!”

“Ah, ‘scuse me, that’s pretty strawman of you, Artie.” Tony Stark calls from a chair in the back of the room where he’s meant to be silent, his hand raised like he’s back in school and answering what the square root of ‘I don’t give a fuck’ is.

“Mr Stark you will address the committee with the appropriate decorum.” A woman who looks like the dictionary definition for ‘pinched’ says, mouth pursed so firmly under her nose that Wanda is half-convinced someone glued it that way.

“My apologies to the committee for being so _informal_.” Stark stands, walking over to stand beside Wanda. His hands are folded behind his back, and he one-hand signs three words. 

_Got. Your. Back._

“In previous encounters where superpowered individuals have faced off insurmountable threats with little to no warning, decisions were made which, after the fact, were considered unfair, or unjustifiable, even though at the time they were necessary. Hell, I carried one through a wormhole myself. But here’s the thing about Miss Maximoff’s decision, and about Wanda in general. You know her as a piece of paper, a piece of data-”

A third member of the committee speaks up, a man who is trying to stay calm but seems to know exactly where this is going. “Mr Stark, we do not want to know Miss Maximoff personally, that is not the point of this discussion.”

“Isn’t it?” Stark blinks his way into a sort of showmanship that Wanda is almost terrified to witness in person. “Do you know anything about her abilities, her strengths? Does the council know she’s a huge fan of brownies?”

The pinched woman sighs. “Mr Stark, if you are attempting to _waste our time_ -”

“Oh no, Ambassador, I’m going to eventually prove a point here. I’m just waiting for my evidence to get unstuck from space traffic. Magic traffic? Space traffic.”

“You are _stalling?”_

Stark looks at his watch. “For three, two, one-”

A bright gold portal opens in the centre of the room, and Wanda watches as not one, not two, but _five_ of the same man walk out into the centre of the room. One of them steps forward, arms raised. “Ambassadors, I am Doctor Stephen Strange, Sorcerer Supreme and Guardian of the Time Stone. I present Doctor Strange, Doctor Strange, Doctor Strange and Doctor Strange.” 

Wanda looks up at Stark, who takes a second to nod once. His fingers make the shape of _Have This_ behind his back again.

The Doctor Strange with the outstretched arms bows. “We are here to prove the unprovable. Wanda Maximoff’s decision spared the universe from unforeseen destruction and death, and has made sure that the universe will be able to function as normal, instead of dealing with the repercussions of universe-wide genocide.”

The man who knew this was coming doesn’t bother hiding his grin as he leans back into his seat. “And how, Doctor, will you prove that?”

A green glow fills the room. “Like this, Ambassador.”

~~~

She feels her magic curl around the stone, like the way she holds the back of his neck when they kiss, like the way he’d hold her hip when they walk down the street, like being safe and comforted and cradled and this is definitely going to give her nightmares.

Vision looks up at her, awe in his eyes. “I believe in you.”

“Don’t be a fool.” She tugs. The vibranium begins to give way. The stone shines brighter, slowly being tugged from the curve of his forehead and into her palm. Like drawing a fish from a net, her mind supplies, but if the fish was keeping the love of your life alive.

“I love you.”

She doesn’t have the time to respond before he hits the ground, rapidly greying and a smile on his face.

~~~

“You should buy a house.” Her Majesty Princess Shuri says before taking a bite of a weird baked good from space that looks and tastes almost exactly like a cinnamon roll, aside from it being bright green. The Guardians brought them, sweet and spiced and unusual enough for everybody to want at least one at this party the King is throwing to celebrate the world not ending.

“What?”

“Y’know, buy a house, settle down, do all that weird shit adults do when things calm down for once. Look, even my brother is doing it!” She waves part of the roll at the crowd gathered downstairs. They’re in the recently-repaired part of the Palace, because nobody wanted to go that far when celebrating the saving of the universe, especially since she just woke up. Wanda can make out the shapes of King T’Challa and a woman in a green dress talking. The look on his face says more than enough.

“Technically, Vision is-”

“A man who contains an ancient and eternal powersource in his forehead and an AI that was made in the 90’s. He’s old enough to tell his magic girlfriend to move in with him.” Shuri pulls a face that reminds her a lot of the teasing she got from Pietro in Sokovia whenever a boy caught her eye. “Go, buy a house. Get a cat. Or a dog. Or both, both’s fun. Go celebrate Hanukkah and buy no-name cereal. Just stop being superheroes and go.”

“It’s not that simple.” Wanda shakes her head, immediately questioning her words. Can it be that simple?

“Ah, the whole running from the law thing. You could Bonnie and Clyde it-”

“Who?”

“Bonnie and- are you _serious_? Ah, come on, they’re criminals in love and they go on the run all the time together, it's an old American thing.”

Wanda raises one eyebrow. “I’m Sokovian.”

Shuri shrugs, eating the last bit of her roll. “Fine, stick with your gross fairy tales and obsession with fish.”

“ _The Two Brothers_ is not a gross story. It grows on you.” Downstairs, the King’s hand tangles with the hand of the woman he stands with. The General nods from the corner, approving.

~~~

She feels rather than sees the Mind Stone sink beneath her skin and merge with the flesh in her left hand.

A thousand voices bounce around her skull. None of them sound like the Vision. Some of them sound like the Vision. One sounds like Pietro, which is a problem in itself, but the Pietro is drowned out by the Visions are drowned out by the sense of being cradled, like being held by her mother the day she was crushed under rubble.

_I have missed you_.

Wanda is left with the uneasy feeling one gets when everything makes sense.

~~~

Wanda’s three deep in the supermarket aisle - the freshest boxes of crackers are always at the back - when she’s startled by a little kid with a pen and a notebook. She jumps, hitting her arm on the metal shelf, before drawing it back out to rub at it. “Can I… help you?”

The kid scuffs their shoe. They’re in long pants and a red and green t-shirt, a much too large backpack on their back. “Are you, um, are you the one who stopped the aliens?” They ask, big brown eyes looking right at her.

She smiles, squatting so they’re eye to eye. She shifts her shopping bag so that it sits more on her back than her front, keeping the straps at bay with her elbow. “I _am_ the one who stopped the aliens. Why do you ask?”

The kid grins from underneath a mop of blonde curls. “I need- I need- I need to write about the _coolest_ person on the planet. Can I write about you? I’m meant to ask you questions and find out about the answers so _please_ can I write about you?”

“Charlie!” A young woman with hair the colour of candy apples tears around the corner, frantic and harried. She rushes up to Wanda, immediately reaching down to take the kid- Charlie’s hand. “I’m so sorry, ever since he heard about the heroes in Wakanda he’s been obsessed with them, he must have mistaken you for one of them-”

“I was there.” Wanda says before she has the chance to hesitate. “Charlie was right, I was one of the people there.” She stands, shifts her bag, then holds out her hand. “I’m Wanda Maximoff.”

“ _The_ Wanda Maximoff? Mary, Joseph and the donkey who was there for a laugh, I can’t believe it's _you_. The name’s Thea, I’m Charlie’s mother. I hope he didn’t bother you?” Thea takes her hand. She has a firm grip, solid like she’s met heroes in supermarkets before. Then again, taking selfies with minimum wage workers is Thor’s favourite pastime. The selfies distract them from his sneaking money into their pockets.

“Not at all, he was just talking about his project. Writing about a super cool person?”

Charlie nods. “Can’t be family, but it has to be someone we’ve met, and I’ve met _you_ . Mum, can Miss Wanda come over so I can talk about stuff?” He beams up at his mother, who gives Wanda a look. _Kids, right?_ Wanda has never received that look from a parent before.

“How about, if your mum is okay with it, you can help me do my shopping and I can help you with your project. You can ask me questions while helping me collect groceries for me and my boyfriend.”

Thea nods. “I don’t mind shopping together, and it’ll definitely keep him happy.” Wanda nods back, then flicks her wrist. The box of crackers at the back of the shelf wiggles its way to the front and floats gently into her bag.

Charlie’s eyes widen, and his jaw drops. “Whoa.”

“So, Charlie, what’s your first question?”

~~~

She raises her stone palm to Thanos, who does not have the time to register the fact that she has the Mind Stone in her palm before she whispers _Sleep_. He, and Steve, and Sam, and Nat, and the King, and the General, and the people rushing to aid them, all fall asleep, collapsed in the dirt as the gold glow washes over them.

It’s peaceful, in this part of the wood, and Wanda’s flesh hand twists and turns, slowly and carefully shifting the holdings in the gauntlet. 

The voice, delighted by the turn of events and reminding her of the drag queen she met while not a runaway, says _Go for the green one, it’s Time_.

The Time Stone wiggles and pops out of the groove on the gauntlet, rising and falling through the air like a bird learning to fly. 

She holds out her empty palm.

~~~

The living room is so full of people Wanda is worried the walls might break. It is a house-warming to the fullest degree, the temperature in the room rising as more and more people come in, laughing and talking and taking up space. She knows she recognises almost everyone here - and those who are new are close friends of people who did fight and couldn't make it - but a part of her still shaken from the fight, even after all these months, means she runs out the back door and spends a good few minutes with her forehead against a tree, the rough bark grounding her in the way breathing just won’t be able to.

There’s the sound of footsteps, someone coming to check on her. It’s probably Sam, or Steve, maybe even Clint, worried about how she’s handling holding the universe in her hands and not giving into the need to fix everything.

“Hey, you okay?” Wanda inhales and turns. She doesn’t recognise the person who comes out, a Black woman in a suit that Wanda has the sneaking suspicion is bullet-proof.

“I’m fine, thank you…”

“Monica. Monica Rambeau. S.W.O.R.D sent me, don't want the saviour of the planet getting hurt at a glorified house party.” Monica smiles, putting well-manicured hands into crisp pockets. “You sure you’re doing okay? I know I’m not like the other Avengers, I don’t know you that well, but maybe that’ll help?”

Wanda isn’t sure if it’s the look in her eyes or the curve of her shoulders that gives it away. “You’re… sad. Why?”

Monica laughs with no humour. “My mum, she founded S.W.O.R.D, taught me everything I knew, is _the_ light of my life.” Monica takes a deep breath, slowly making her way towards Wanda. “The day of the fight? I was sitting in a hospital room, waiting for her to be released after surgery. Cancer, probably from handling all those visitors we had to pretend didn’t exist.“ Monica stands beside Wanda, looking up at the sky. “It went well, but there’s a part of me that can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t it.”

Wanda nods in agreement, looking up at the sky. Orion is out, and she follows the shape of it to constellations she doesn’t remember learning but somehow knows the names of. “Like you’ve spent so long having to be scared you can’t shake the feeling once you don’t have to be.”

“Hiding from international law probably means this whole house thing makes you sick, huh?” Wanda turns her head to look at Monica, who is already looking at her. “I’m not saying it’s gonna be easy, Lord knows all of this is a lot in a short amount of time, but there’s people in your corner. S.W.O.R.D.’s in your corner, and, personally, as someone with experience dealing with incredibly powered women who put the weight of a planet or two on their shoulders and refuse to share the burden?” Monica pulls out a small card. Wanda takes it. “Feel free to share the burden.”

The card is actually two cards, pressed tightly together so they don’t slip. One of them is sleek and polished, clearly S.W.O.R.D issue, with her rank and contact details. The second is yellowed cardstock and written in the slightly imperfect hand of an eleven-year-old. “Lieutenant Monica ‘Trouble’ Rambeau. For all things space, extra-terrestrial and terrifying.” Wanda reads aloud. There’s a small star symbol in the right hand corner, red and blue and gold. “Why did your mother start S.W.O.R.D.?”

Monica grins. “My mum has this friend.”

Vision finds them, hours later, talking about times cultures have clashed - for Wanda, it was having to combine Sokovian tradition with the more relaxed air of the compound, while Monica had to prevent diplomatic tension by dyeing brussel sprouts pink - sitting in the dirt under the tree Wanda had her face buried in, laughing so hard that they were crying. Vision does not disturb them, and instead goes back inside the house.

~~~

The Time Stone snaps against her empty palm, and the shock of power feels like she’s seven again and breaking her arm after tripping while playing. Her left hand feels… odd. Like pins and needles but without the pain, an odd tingling sensation as something happens. She’s not sure what, but something is happening.

Thanos begins to move, and Wanda’s reflexes are the only thing which allows her to push down the _Sleep_ command again, though he struggles to stay conscious. 

_Isn’t she just_ fascinating? Says the same voice from before. _And you said I couldn’t do it_.

_Did you pick this one?_ Says another voice, ancient and childlike and off-putting. _I like her._

_Oh! We should tell her to grab the Reality Stone. Or the Power Stone. That purple-headed idiot probably can’t tell the details._

“No backseat fighting!” She yells, reaching for the Power Stone anyway. It shakes and quakes and puts up a hell of a fight, but snaps out of the hold and rockets into her chest. The pain of her ribs starting to give way breaks her concentration on the _Sleep_ , and she catches her breath as Thanos, and the others, begin to wake up.

Thanos stands, dazed and shaking his head. He lifts the gauntlet, then looks at her.

“Don’t be a fool, child. Give me the stones.” He takes a step towards her. Behind him, Wanda can make out the shapes of Steve and Sam and the others, all in various states of shock.

Wanda, high on power and magic and adrenaline, stares down the Mad Titan. “Try and take them from me.”

Thanos roars.

~~~

Vision is nervous, rolling his hands and tugging on his sweater cuffs and fussing with every thread on his collar. “Are you sure about this? I mean, this is a rather important occasion and if you’d rather postpone so we can prepare-”

“Vision.”

He looks away from the mirror towards Wanda. “Yes, dear?”

“You’re panicking.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. It’s just a dinner.”

Vision sighs. “Right, a dinner.” There’s a pause. “A dinner with representatives of the most powerful alien governments in the quadrant- Wanda _what are we doing_?” He’s fussed his collar crooked, so Wanda reaches up and straightens it out.

“We are meeting the neighbours. We’ve done this before.”

“Our neighbour to the right does not have the ability to harness the power of a supernova.” He grumbles. He’s cute when he grumbles.

“Our neighbour to the right’s neighbours to the left-”

“A convoluted way to say us, dear.”

“-can shoot beams of light from their forehead and fling tanks into the sky with a flick of the wrist. This, this worry? They probably felt that too.”

Vision sighs, his shoulders falling a good few inches. “Alright. We shake a few hands, sit through a meal I can’t eat to stop people from talking to me, and hope to not start a diplomatic incident.”

She waves her fingers, their coats floating towards them, his a deep green-almost-black to match his trousers, hers a deep red-almost-black, because she refuses to give up the shade. “They’re going to love you, Viz.”

“Oh please, we both know I’m the trophy husband in this situation.” He offers her hand, and she takes it as they step out of their room in the palace and into the ornate hallway overlooking the gardens of New Asgard. The hallway is lined with guards from every planet that’s sent a delegation, robots who give Vision an odd look and many-eyed arachnids, humanoids with vibrant skin tones and, thankfully, Director Rambeau herself, with a soft grin and a crisp navy blue suit at the door. Her grey-brown hair is tightly braided, each braid finished off with a silver wire wrap that Asgardians seems to favour.

“Director.” Vision says, and she frowns the same way Wanda’s mother frowned when she and Pietro got into mischief.

“I’ve told you two before, Maria or nothing. You two ready?” She says, nodding at the door. There’s an odd weapon at her side, pulsing and dangerous in the way that makes Wanda’s forehead feel a little heavier.

“Should we be armed?” Vision says, voice rising higher in pitch.

Maria screws up her face, nose wrinkling the same way Monica’s does when she laughs at a joke. “Should be fine. We should go.” She pushes the door open.

~~~

Thanos tries to reach for her with the Reality Stone, wanting to turn her into ribbons or stone or _something_ , but it doesn’t take hold like it should, slipping off her shoulders in a way that seems awfully familiar.

_We’ve been here before, Champion_ echoes the Mind Stone. Wanda swallows, tasting HYDRA experiment chambers and the sweet tang of adrenaline as she pushes against the wave, reflecting whatever it was back at him. It rolls over Thanos harmlessly, but the trees behind him fall away into ash. He rushes at her, but she sidesteps, the magic in her palms crackling like the time she put too much salt in the frypan, oil and salt popping fierce against her skin in the same way uncontrollable Power races down her right arm and makes her reach out to touch.

The gauntlet falls away, metal replaced with a few hundred small daisies, the three remaining Stones landing on the floor in a helpful bundle.

Thanos yells something, an order maybe, a curse perhaps. She reaches the bundle first.

~~~

She’s got her hands wrapped and a bag swinging as she follows an unspoken rhythm. _One two duck two one two one two sidestep one two one two backstep swing kick_.

Someone else walks into the gym. Wanda doesn’t bother turning around, she’s not in the mood for company at the moment. She punches, the bag swings wildly, and between one swing and the next Barnes is there, holding it steady.

“Need a hand?” He offers.

“No.” She punches the bag. It doesn’t move. “You can go.”

“You think you’re the first overpowered person I’ve helped after a life or death dilemma? C’mon, you need to punch a person. It’ll be a great way to work on your form.” He steps towards the sparring ring, an actual wrestling ring with elastic barriers and colour-coded corners.

“What’s wrong with my form?”

“It fucking sucks. Get in the ring.” He flips into the ring like an asshole, and she stalks behind him, stepping into it like a regular human. He turns to face her as he wraps his flesh hand. “We’re gonna spar until you learn to talk about your problems or I smack you so hard the Stones feel it, alright?”

Wanda moves closer to him, hands half-raised. “I thought Sam was the therapist.”

Bucky flushes a shade of red he’ll never confess to. Coward. “Her Majesty got to me.” He ties off the wrapping of his hand, tucking the end neatly beneath his wrist wrapping. “I don’t wanna ruin all her hard work by bein’ a dipshit about my feelings.”

“Maybe she should work on me next.”

“I’ll book you in if you beat me without your powers. Ready?” She nods, bouncing on her feet. He swings at her.

~~~

When people ask her what happened next, when all those present realise they can’t _remember_ how exactly Wanda did it, she is going to tell them she doesn’t remember.

She has always been good at lying.

She does remember, all of it, the curl of her fingers over the other three Stones, the violent rush of energy that cracked every bone in her body, searing pain along every nerve and muscle as raw uncontrollable power tucks itself away in any spare space it can find. Sparks had crackled along the surface of her skin, and she knows this is different because Thanos didn’t have the voices of thousands in his head, instead sitting all quiet and lonely in his skull, and Wanda has an orchestra of voices, baying for blood, for death, for repayment.

Thanos’ next order dies on his lips, replaced with a quiet, “What are you?”

_Dangerous_

_An absolute slaughterhouse_

_Champion_

_Angry, more like it_

“My name is Wanda Maximoff, and I want you off my planet.” She raises her hand, the one with Viz- with the Mind Stone. It pulses like a heartbeat, like an engine, like the need to rip and claw and tear, like the need to breathe.

“You don’t know what you’re doing.” Thanos says, hands held out like he’s taming a scared animal. There is no room left in Wanda to feel fear.

“Oh, I think I do.” She snaps her fingers.

~~~

“I can’t believe out of all the Avengers, you’re the one that gets to be on Girl Scout cookies.” Clint says, forearm deep in a Thin Mint box the size of his torso. “I mean, we’ve been bulk buying from them for, what, a decade?”

“You mean I have.” Tony - not Stark, not anymore, not after the house and the amnesty and the patching her up without telling her - replies. “By the way, raspberry, dark chocolate and shortbread? Absolute genius, kiddo, couldn’t have done a better job myself.” A plate of the aforementioned - and yet unnamed - Girl Scout cookies are on the table, not-so-slowly dwindling as the Avengers’ guests for the week enjoy the finest cuisine Earth has to offer. Which means eight foot tall humanoids with very spindly features are enjoying far too many baked goods, but it’s good for diplomatic relations.

“These bad boys got a name yet?” Rocket says, head inside another box. “I wanna know what I need to order for the road.”

Wanda shrugs. “Nothing yet. I can’t tell whether I should try and match the theme or-”

“You’re not sure whether to go _Tagalog_ or _Peanut Butter Patty_ , right?” Peter prompts, nodding when Wanda nods. “I mean, you could be boring and go, I dunno, _Raspberry Wonder_.”

“ _Raspberry Wonder_? What is she, a Little Miss Shortcake character?” Rocket yells back. 

Sam looks over at Rocket. “How do you know what Little Miss Shortcake is?”

“Groot thought it was about real plants! Fuck you!” Rocket flips Sam the bird, tearing open another packet of cookies. “Oh, come to Papa, absolute magic these bad boys are.”

Bucky snaps his fingers. “ _Magic Munchies_.”

Everyone stares at Bucky. “That’s terrible, even for you.” Sam says. “I’m confiscating your cookie.” Sam pulls the cookie out from between his metal fingertips, shoving the whole thing in his mouth with a grin.

“Oi, fuck you!” The two of them begin to argue, and get so into it that they don’t notice Peter using his webslingers to steal their box and pass it to Wanda with a smile that makes his eyes crinkle.

Wanda sits in her chair, rummaging through the box, thinking about it. “It’s actually not _that_ bad. Unless there’s anything better floating around?”

Rocket shrugs. “Not from me. Is the jury in agreement, _Magic Munchies_?” He says the name with a shudder, like if he says it enough a woman in a sparkly blue dress is going to make him a real boy.

Clint waves his now empty box like a flag. “Aye!”

~~~

She wakes up in the dirt, but she’s also not in the dirt, floating a few scant inches over the Avengers Tower, but also deep in the core of the sun, but also a tree on a planet with three suns. She’s scattered, endless, surrounding the universe with something she can’t name. There’s something- someone here with her, weaving her back together like a stuffed toy that was loved too much.

_Come home, Champion, rest_

Her consciousness is tugged along leylines, pulled like toys tied to string until she reforms, piece by piece, fragment by fragment, sensations crawling back to her as her body rematerialises in a crater, dirt pressed against her upper lip. She presses newly-formed hands into heated dirt, slipping, staggering, rising. 

The forest a few feet around her has been flattened, decimated, and she can make out the decaying form of Thanos, body giving way to a few rapidly growing fruit trees. She steps out of the crater, past the others - who don’t acknowledge where she’s going, that she’s moving, can they even _see_ her - and out into the clearing, where the rest of Thanos’ army becomes mulch.

“What did you do?” Someone says from behind her. Wanda turns, facing Thor. He flinches at her gaze. Thor never flinches.

“What’s wrong?”

“You’re ah…” He makes a motion with his hands, marking out the shape of a pointed headpiece.

“Ah.” She looks down at her hands, each forearm covered in a dark red gauntlet that wraps around the base of her fingers. She knows that she’s meant to be dead, or in so much pain that she can barely move, but it’s like mourning Pietro all over again. Something is grounding her. “I’m surprised you’re able to see me.”

“My brother dabbled in magic, exposure develops tolerance. I have the unnerving feeling that I’m not going to remember this, but, well.” He takes a hesitant step to her side, hand outstretched like he’s going to rest it on her shoulder. “What did you wish for?”

Wanda inhales, her hand moving to trace the headpiece on her head, a peak on either side of her head. She exhales as she follows the slope of it to the middle of her forehead, a crown of power. “I wished for life.”

Her ribs finish giving way, and the Power Stone crushes her heart.

~~~

“I was doing some thinking this morning.” Vision says, one day, when they’re curled up in the sunroom with absolutely nothing to do, Wanda sprawled on Vision’s lap on the sunbed. The sunset is scattering reds and pinks and oranges on the back wall, a few of the sunbeams catching on the crystals suspended from the ceiling, casting greens and blues and purples along with them.

“A dangerous pastime, Viz.” She traces a bunch of nonsense against his torso, in the spot where her fingers are pressed against where his right kidney would be.

“I was thinking about this, and how much of it is me.” He raises a hand and presses it to the Mind Stone in his forehead. “Because it isn’t all me, because I sound like JARVIS, but it’s enough of me to…”

“To what?”

He looks at her, his hand moving to take hers. “I remember what you did, that day, like I took every step alongside you. I _saw_ what you did, what you gave up to save everyone, Wanda, and I know that I’m not meant to but-”

She moves, sitting up so she can look him directly in the eyes. “You kept me alive. I was fully prepared to die and you kept me alive. _That was you._ ”

She kisses him.

~~~

She wakes up in an all white room. There’s the vague sound of conversation and the very real sensation of broken ribs, each inhale and inhale stilted and sharp. She rubs her thumb along her palm, biting back panic when she can’t feel the smooth sensation of stone. She turns her head to the left, breath catching in her throat when her vision clears, revealing the greyed body of Vision on the other side of glass, only a few arm’s lengths away. They’ve covered him with a sheet, the way you cover bodies in a morgue, but one of his hands has slipped down, soft and gentle and grey. There’s people gathered further behind Vision, behind more glass, people she can’t be bothered making out the details of, pale blue and dark suits and bright reds. 

_Wanda_.

Wanda looks to the right. The six stones shine like crystals, like the future, like every opportunity she’s ever said no to because other people told her to abandon hope, in a vibranium lined glass case, each of them separated from the other. The Power Stone isn’t a stone anymore, whipping about and expanding and contracting and pushing at the glass, almost blocking her view of the softly pulsing Mind Stone beside it.

_Wanda_.

She raises her hand, shoulder protesting and arm aching as she pushes herself into a sitting position. The Mind Stone flares, big and bright and beautiful. She swings her legs over the side, the sheet sliding off her legs as she stands. She can make out the vague sounds of people yelling, but she doesn’t care to try to listen. A door slams open, and a flick of her wrist has it slamming shut.

_Wanda._

She takes a step, staggers, rights herself with a sharp burst of something, stumbling towards the casing containing the stones and ignoring the cries of thousands as she pulls the glass case off of the Mind Stone. The room goes silent, outside the room goes silent, as the Mind Stone levitates up out of the case. She reaches for it, and it floats into her hand, resting gingerly in her palm. She turns to face Vision, on the other side of the glass, cold and grey and dead.

_Wanda._

The glass shatters, but remains in midair, floating high above the floor as Wanda herself floats through the now broken window. She lands by his side, the sheet flung away with a flick of her pinky finger. Vision looks up at her, unseeing, unknowing, unable to do anything but lie there. She trails a finger over the hole in his forehead, the wound where she pulled the stone from him and changed the world. She places the stone against his forehead and pushes.

“Wanda!”

~~~

New York smells like garbage after spending so long out in the semi-rural suburbs, but the door to the Sanctum swings open the second she lands on the step, so she’ll forgive Strange for asking her back out here.

“Wanda.” Wong nods at her from next to a shelf, a few dozen books floating around him. “I’ll be with you in a moment, I just need to make sure these are put in the right spot.” He waves his hands, and the books fly back into place, sliding between encyclopaedias and journals and next to something that looks like a tiny statue of her. He takes a step back, admiring his work. “Perfect.” He walks over to her, a soft smile on his face.

“What has you in a good mood?” Wanda asks, starting a little as a teapot, accompanied by two small cups, float towards them. It’s a novelty teapot, one Wanda gave them that looks like a pumpkin, with matching cups. She crinkles her nose in a grin.

Wong looks at her like he’s waiting for the ball to drop, and pours her a cup. “Here, for your headache.” He offers her the cup, and she takes it, savouring the smell of fresh herbs, spices and what she thinks is lemon peel.

“Thank you, hows Kamar- wait a minute.” Now that Wong mentions it, the headache that’s been plaguing her for months is gone. Poof, absolutely nothing.

Wong laughs, a rare laugh that bounces around the foyer and makes her flush. “Are you surprised that we managed to figure it out?” He takes the second cup and pours himself a drink, then taking her free arm.

Wanda subconsciously loops her arm around his, still a little in shock. “I mean, I knew he was a medical doctor but-”

“Solving a headache caused by interdimensional interference is a new one.” Wong nods, leading her through the Sanctum. “We really had to go hunting, but we figured it out eventually. It also helped that the answer wanted to be found.”

“What was it?”

“It’ll be easier to explain if you just see.” He leads her up the stairs, past the bedrooms that are actually filled, now, no longer abandoned after the massacre all those years ago, and up another set of stairs, around the corner, and opening the door to- _oh_.

Oh.

Doctor Stephen Strange stands by the newly updated Window Of The Worlds, watching the mosaic planets twist and turn in orbit. There are more worlds, now, some of them easily recognisable as Earth and others completely unknown. He’s pointing each one out, naming them in turn, occasionally glancing at the two twin boys, no older than ten, standing either side of him. One of the boys is in a red hoodie and blue jeans, the other in a bright blue and faded blue jeans, both of them looking up at the worlds above them. Something similar to having her chest crushed wracks her body, because this scene is familiar but she doesn’t know any twins but maybe she _does_. 

“And this one,” Strange says, pointing at another Earth clone, “Is us. And I mean us us, right here right now us.”

“Wow. We’re one of _thousands_ ?” One of the boys asks, and Wanda recognises him in the smile and the sound of his voice and oh gods it’s _them_.

“Everyone is a little bit different in each of those universes. There are some universes where I keep being a medical doctor, others where I made the wrong choice and others where I made the right one. That’s the same for everybody else on every other planet in every galaxy. But, there is one person that always stays the same.”

“Wanda Maximoff. Aw man, that’s so cool.” Says Billy, who then looks in her direction. “Mum!” Billy beams at her as she makes it through the doorway. Tommy disappears, then reappears with his arms wrapped around her waist. A speedster, just like Pietro. Billy gets to her the old fashioned way, running up the stairs and colliding with her waist. 

She looks at Doctor Strange, who gives her a half-smile. “Miss Maximoff.”

Wanda makes her way down the steps, instinctually pressing her hands against the back of Tommy and Billy’s heads. “What is going on?” She asks, half-disbelieving that they’re here.

“Remember our discussion about who you’re meant to be?” He replies, gesturing to the small section of knowledge he’s been able to gather specifically on her, the Scarlet Witch, the Binder of Timelines and the Universal Constant. “It apparently includes these two gentlemen.”

Billy and Tommy beam up at her. She remembers, of _course_ she remembers, in one of the books from one of the other timelines, journals and newspaper clippings, reading about another Wanda’s twin boys, twin Maximoffs joining the Avengers and being the heroes Wanda always wanted to be as a child. She hadn’t considered that she would have them too, didn’t let herself even ponder the possibility because it only left an ache in her chest. It had taken months after her confession to Vision before she agreed to put themselves on the waitlist, terrified that the boys she kept half-seeing would never come home. “But I thought it wasn’t possible, I wasn’t anywhere near anyone who could do this-”

“Except for yourself.” Wong elaborates. “They’re your kids, energy and all. If this is all too sudden-”

Wanda’s heart clenches, thinking about the eggshell bedrooms with the doorway between on the second floor that really shouldn’t be empty anymore. “No, no, no it’s perfect- oh it’s perfect.” She squats so she’s eye to eye with the boys, with _her_ boys. “Tommy, Billy, I’m so thankful that you chose me to be your mum. How about you come home with me, okay?” They smile the same way, a little wonky and a lot of love, and she pulls them in for the tightest hug she can imagine. At the back of her mind, she uses her phone to send Vision a text.

_Don’t worry about the adoption interest papers._

_Why?_

_I found them._

~~~

She half-wakes up in a real room, this time, with a heavily decorated quilt and a side table and view of the capital, the sun reflecting a little off of the protective dome that still remains above. She shifts, rolling a little so she doesn’t have to look over one shoulder to see the city, then falls back asleep between one flock of birds and the next.

She wakes up for real in the same room, the sky outside sparking with stars and the city below doing its best impression, street lights and lights inside skyscrapers making the night sky last forever. She stretches, joints in her shoulders popping, fingertips brushing against the wooden headboard, knuckles cracking as she opens and closes her hands. Her bones feel strong, stronger than before, like the thrumming power has settled and hardened in the cracks it made.

She’s sitting up before she realises she wants to, quilt pooling at her waist. There’s not much else in the room, a dresser and a mirror against one wall. There’s a door, plain and unassuming, probably leading to a bathroom and another door, ornate and well-designed, leading to whatever is outside. She slides out of bed, feet bare against the wood, the clothes she was wearing to the fight still on her, but surprisingly intact and clean. The gauntlets she was wearing are gone. She raises a hand to her head. No crown.

Perhaps a dream. After all, the world is still turning, maybe Thanos was all a bad dream. She reaches the door to the outside, stepping into a pair of sandals that have been left for her. She reaches for the handle, opening the door and stepping into what appears to be a hallway. It’s full of art, tapestries and portraits and sculptures, a few more doors lining the hallway. She looks left. More hallway. Looks right. Even more hallway. She inhales, exhales, inhales.

Something familiar bounces its way from the right, like a smell or a sound or a feeling. She walks down the hallway, past a portrait of His Majesty the King, past a giant window and into a very full dining hall. Even though the table is crowded, the room is almost silent, people Wanda recognises - and some people Wanda doesn’t - slumped over their food, speaking no louder than a murmur. Steve is there, shoulders hunched as he speaks across the table to Stark, who has the look of death in his eyes and the gauntness of starvation in his cheeks. Wanda does a headcount from where she stands, half-shadowed in the doorway. Nat, Sam and Bucky right beside each other, Sam tracing circles on Bucky’s metal palm. The General and the Princess and the King, discussing something on a communication bead. A few aliens, a racoon and a tree, debating quietly with Thor about something she can’t make out. Colonel Rhodes next to Stark, making very pointed faces at Steve as he rolls a piece of cauliflower around. The kid from Germany - Spiderman? Spiderkid? - and a few others she doesn’t quite remember the name of at the far end, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

She can’t see Vision. Something awful curls in her gut, because she remembers trying to fix him and he isn’t here, _why isn’t he here_?

Soft footsteps echo from behind her, and she turns, the awful feeling in her gut dissipating as Vision catches her hands in his, pulling them up to press a kiss to each knuckle in turn. “Wanda.” He says, like it says enough, eyes shining like he’s about to cry.

“Viz.” Her voice cracks, and she pulls her hands out of his grasp to pull him into a kiss. “Viz, Viz, _Viz._ ”

“It’s alright, I’m alright, we’re alright.” He says between frantic kisses. “Wanda, Wanda, darling-”

“I didn’t see you at dinner-”

Vision presses her hand against his cheek. “I am always late. I check on you first. When I couldn’t find you I was so _scared_.” He presses his other hand to her neck, her heartbeat pounding under his palm. “But you’re here, you’re awake.”

“Thanos?” She asks, just to be safe, because what if he’s still out there, still a threat, still going to hurt her family and friends, a looming shadow over what happens next.

“Gone. All of it gone. What you did saved us all.” He pauses, like he wants to say something profound and life-changing. “I’m sure the others will want to give you their thanks.”

“I want to stay with you.” She says. What if she has to let go to see the others? What if she has to leave him? What if something happens while she’s gone?

He squeezes her hand. “I will be right here the whole time. I promise you, Wanda, I’m never going to leave you again.”

There’s a hushed curse from inside the dining hall. “Dammit- Vision, get over here, I can see you in the hallway.” Stark says loudly, breaking the silence. “Stop lurking.” A few people look their way, including Sam, who doesn’t turn back to his food. He elbows Bucky, who turns and looks in turn.

“Do you trust me?” He says, curling his hands even tighter around hers. Neither of them want to let go for a long time.

“Always.” She steps into the room. Sam's the first to notice, kicking his chair back without breaking contact, relief obvious in his eyes and his growing smile. The commotion means everyone looks at him, then at the door.

They all rise.


End file.
